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Monthly Archives: January 2016

My Dad (right) – taken at his favorite Italian restaurant he visited when he came to Perth

(Photograph by Samantha Rose)

*This update is told with the permission and blessing from my Dad and this is his story as he told it to me.

It was written in January 2015 when Dad was given the ‘all-clear’ from his prostate cancer. I have chosen to publish his story one year later in the hope that it might help other men in this situation*.

As you may or may not know, in 2014 my Dad was diagnosed with Prostate cancer and thanks to the vigilance of his doctor and Dad not being afraid to have the relevant tests – it was caught in good time.

But please don’t think that for a man having prostate cancer is any less traumatic than other cancers because the treatment for this disease is exceptionally hard and anyone that has had radiotherapy can testify as such, not to mention the medication you have to take and the havoc it can wreak on your body and emotional well-being.

Dad told me that it is about time that more stories like his were told to give hope to others that have been diagnosed with cancer and like he was, are feeling overwhelmed with their diagnosis and the prospect of what lies ahead of them. In particular – prostate cancer, which so many men are too embarrassed to discuss let alone get checked for.

Anyway Dad called me tonight to tell me about his hospital visit to the cancer specialist on Friday and how the news was broken to him about the results of his prostate cancer.

My sister Terri had gone along with him to his appointment and Dad said the Doctor read his blood results and had a big grin on his face and Dad wondered why he (the doctor) was smiling.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, he advised my Dad that his prostate PSA levels were barely traceable and that he had never seen them so low and that Dad does not have to go back for a year.

Dad said that the Doctor looked so pleased with giving this news, you can imagine that doctors give bad news all the time so this must have made his day.

Both he and my sister hugged each other when they left – oblivious to those around them, simply unable to believe the news that they had just been told. They quickly then told my other sister Julie (you can call her Me Julie and she has a fetish for firemen).

They made their way to the pub where Dad’s friends were there and the news was told and Dad said that people were congratulating him, some of them he knew, some he didn’t.

Someone bought him a bottle of champagne to celebrate and glasses were filled to raise a toast. Because what could be more fitting to raising a toast than to kicking cancers butt?

As everyone raised their glass, Dad told me that he picked up his glass and said quite suddenly and loudly ‘Fuck Cancer’ and one by one everyone raised their glass and repeated it so you could hear ‘Fuck Cancer’ being repeated several times at the bar.

Dad said he couldn’t stop smiling and he admitted to me on the phone tonight that he was still smiling and not quite believing the news.

He also emphasized that the moral of this update is to show that sometimes, just sometimes you can beat something that initially overwhelms you.

Prostate cancer is treatable – but you have to catch it in time. So many men have symptoms that they ignore and a simple blood test and check up can detect things early enough so that treatment can be started. The trouble is guys, embarrassment can literally be your worst enemy.

I will say that Dad has been through a tough time with his treatment and I remember him saying that it was the thought of having cancer in his body that really upset him – just the mere thought of it being there.

He came through the radiotherapy which was not pleasant, he is still on the medication which is also not pleasant but said that he doesn’t care ‘providing the cancer has gone’ because he is at a stage now where he could not have imagined being at 12 months ago.

Cancer is a bastard of a disease, it is a thief, an intruder, a heart-breaker and it does not deserve the power that it has and we need these ‘butt kicking’ stories.

So I want to dedicate this to my Dad and also to anyone that is going through this (or any kind of cancer).

‘Daddy Stocken Kicked Cancers Butt’ My Dad said to me on the phone tonight and you certainly did that Dad, and we are so proud of you.

FUCK CANCER

*Update for January 2016*

I am pleased to say that Dad remains free of cancer and is doing very well and we are all so very proud of him.

Our pets age, they get old, they slow down and get more demanding – a bit like us really. One minute they are young and before you know it, time has flown by and at a glance they have become old; leaving us wondering just when it all happened.

I have read so many stories about owners surrendering their pets once they become senior and there are too many photos of grey faced animals with opaque aging eyes staring back at us from pound rescue photographs.

I find it leaves a nasty taste in my mouth when a pet is given up purely and only for being old and then quickly replaced by a younger pet. What kind of message does this send out and are we really so arrogant to think that old age does not apply to us and we as humans will never get old or demanding?

This blog is dedicated to my senior cat Gordon who is stepping in to his senior years which is also bringing with it a change of personality – he has no boundaries, he is demanding, he is naughty and even chews my hair when I sleep. Could I surrender him for these reasons and swap him for a younger cat? Absolutely not, I love him and I love every ginger hair on his head and I love the old cat he has become.

This story details how I see Gordon, his behaviour, his appearance and how it is all too easy to assume that he will always be around. I have written this to him as an open letter – yes I know he is a cat and can’t read, but if he could then this is what I would tell him.

So treasure your senior pets, treasure every single grey hair on their face – they have earned it and if you have loved them properly then you have earned the right to have them in your lives and for that reason; you should count yourselves very lucky.

Gordon

At 9 weeks you came in to our lives. I remember we had to choose between you and your twin brother Anthony and we picked you because you were not scared of our dog – a whippet bitch called ‘Rema’.

You marched right up to her and smacked her on the snout and I will never forget the look of horror on her face as you did that. A tiny little ginger kitten taking on a 12kg whippet that quickly developed respect for you.

You were young, energetic, naughty and ‘full of beans’ as I would describe you. You would shred the carpet, eat our towels, fight with the dog and hang round her neck and swing from the curtains in a small ginger bundle of fury.

Gordon and my whippet ‘Rema’ – best friends

(Photograph by Sam Rose)

At a year old you had the look of a ‘teenage’ cat about you. You had developed retrieving skills and would play ‘fetch’ with your beanie baby toy panther that you loved to carry around with you and bring to us if we asked you to.

Gradually you grew into a fat cat that seemed to go more orange the more mischief you got in to. You had developed a habit of stealing things which included boxes of matches, inhalers, jewellery, cotton buds – anything that you could fit in your ginger mouth. Your ‘spoils’ were hidden in your favourite spots that I soon found and then you would move them somewhere else and it would take me ages to find out where.

At six years old we took you to Australia where you flew by plane and landed in Perth a day before we did where you spent the next 30 days in quarantine. On release from quarantine you quickly settled in as an Aussie cat and adapted to the heat, the noisy birds and life in general, your life in London was now a million miles away.

Gordon at Byford Quarantine, WA

(Photograph by Sam Rose)

You spent the next seven years looking fabulous with a glossy coat and having an energetic zest for life. Being an indoor cat you had no predators and none of the usual risks associated with being an outdoor cat and we marvelled at your health and vitality for a cat of your age.

The parrots taunted you and you argued back in your cat-like ‘chatter’ as you made ‘clicking’ noises with your mouth at the window, no doubt threatening what you would do to them if you ever got out.

Gordon looking very ‘orange’ – note his eyes starting to look old

(Photograph by Sam Rose)

Six months after arriving in Australia, we acquired our first ‘Aussie dog’ – a 4 month old kelpie called ‘Rocky’. Within the first five minutes of meeting him, you had smacked him smartly on the snout and ‘boxed’ him with your huge padded ginger paws, making him pee himself because he was so scared of you.

The line was once again drawn with you and Rocky knew from that day on to never cross you and became and still is, your biggest protector to this very day.

Then three years ago we fostered a 12 week old ridgeback/kelpie puppy called Brutus – which was meant to be a three day thing really, except that Brutus ended up staying.

You took to Brutus immediately and let him get away with a remarkable amount of rough-housing until a point was reached where you would get him into one of your ‘death-grips’ and pin him down by his throat (all 30kgs of him).

Brutus has adored you from the very first day he met you and enjoys washing you, cleaning your ears and following you around until he annoys you enough to get a biff on the snout (claws in of course).

A baby Brutus and Gordon and then a grown up Brutus and Gordon

(Photograph by Sam Rose)

At what point did I notice you got old

It kind of crept up on me really (probably like it did to you) but one day I was walking around the house getting various bits and pieces ready for work the next morning. I happened to glance down to see your frail ginger body trotting after me as you struggled to keep up.

I laughed and thought it cute but on closer inspection you were like an old man trying to keep up with life as your joints hurt you and you stiffly tried to trot after me as I went from room to room to get things.

Your agility and balance has slowly declined over the years and last week you jumped up on to the sofa while I was sitting on it and as I looked round, all I saw was your ginger face appear full of panic as you lost your grip and fell backwards to the floor.

As if you were embarrassed, you sneezed, shook yourself and limped off as if to say ‘That didn’t hurt, I meant that to happen’.

Your stomach has become more sensitive as you have aged and whilst you have always been prone to vomiting – probably due to you grooming the dogs and ingesting their fur, your vomiting has become more frequent and now you can do it without warning whilst managing a somewhat splendid Exorcist style projectile vomit as you hit the blinds and the walls with the contents of your stomach.

Your bones have started to ‘crack’ when you are picked up and despite our attempts to treat you like a piece of fine bone china, the extent of your fragility is apparent.

It doesn’t stop you being naughty though and you still like to bite up and down our arms like you are chewing a corn on the cob, except that now your jaw kind of ‘clacks’ as you bite down, your bite is weak and your stiff legs somewhat feebly bicycle against my arm as you try and kick me.

Knock, Knock – who’s there? Gordon, that’s who!

A habit that you have had since you were a baby was to stand on your hind legs and use your front legs to scratch at the door. You had the ability to do this for hours on end until we relented and would let you in the bedroom.

These days you still do it but I can barely hear you but I know you are there. I can hear you meowing and crying and the oh-so-faint sounds of your paws weakly scratching at the door. I let you in straight away, I always let you in because I don’t like the idea of you wanting to come in so bad that you will still use what energy you have to scratch at that door and I know how much it must hurt your arthritic paws.

Still in charge – no matter how old you are

(Photograph by Sam Rose)

Sometimes you have those mad half hours where you take a shit in your litter tray and then run around the house with a joyous expression on your face as you skid along the floor and bump into doors/windows while the dogs look at you as though you have gone mad.

Talking of dogs, you still have the power over Rocky and Brutus. You can get Brutus on his back in submission in a matter of seconds as you try and get him in a ‘death grip’ by biting his throat and kicking him with your hind legs. He could kill you with one bite but no, he has a healthy respect for you and is so protective of you.

Brutus has your back Gordon

(Photograph by Sam Rose)

Everyone needs a hug sometimes…

Every evening when I get home from work I sit on the sofa and relax with a cup of tea, just unwinding as people do. Like clockwork you always jump on my knee and demand my attention.

In your younger years, you started off subtle and would never sit on my laptop or push drinks out of my hand but as you have aged, your boundaries have long gone and you are more than happy to shove my cup of tea right out of my hand or sit square on top of my laptop and ‘make puddings’ on my chest as you knead my boobs and go off into a trance of delight because you quite simply love your cuddles.

I have learned that resistance is futile and as soon as I see you march across the coffee table, I know that my cup of tea must be quickly finished, my laptop shut down, phone on the table and the blanket gets put on my lap so that you can get comfy.

Gordon – simply cannot be ignored

(Photograph by Sam Rose)

Then as quickly as you demanded to get on there, you decide that you have had enough and walk off with your tail held high in an act of defiance that says ‘I can do what I want’.

‘He won’t be around forever you know and one day you will miss all of this’ My husband warned me one day when I complained that you wouldn’t leave me alone.

I stared at you when he said that and tried to imagine life without you, life without Gordon – the cat that flew from the Motherland to Perth, the cat that had been with us through thick and thin and has seen us through our life stages.

I realised that he was right, that you wouldn’t be around forever and there would come a day that I would be regretting the day I chose my privacy, laptop and cup of Yorkshire tea over the cat that I loved so dearly.

Now when you want a cuddle; you get it and as for me going to the toilet on my own, well that is so overrated and I no longer complain when you want to sit on my knee while I am trying to pee.

You still love your life, you still enjoy your life, you are just slower and older but you still know how to demand what you want, get what you want and you still know how to be naughty.

So when did you get so old my darling Gordon and why did it take me so long to realise that you are not replaceable by a mobile phone, laptop computer or ‘time alone’.

Now I make the most of each time you want a cuddle, I am privileged that you are so desperate to sleep on my lap and I love the fact that you follow me around. But most of all I am proud, proud that you are my cat and that we bought you with us from London to Perth and I am privileged to be seeing you into your senior years.

You are getting older Gordon and you won’t always be around but while we have you, we promise to look after you, never to let any harm come to you and love you for the rest of the time that you have with us and when the heartbreaking time comes to send you over to Rainbow Bridge, we will walk right beside you to that entrance.

On Friday 23rd October 2015, Jessie’s owner left his house in Heathridge, WA at around 1.30pm. He noticed nothing strange or untoward, just an ordinary day with nothing to make him suspect anything was going to happen.

He returned the same day at around 7.15pm, the weather was fine and it had gone dark about 20 minutes prior to him coming home. Jessie’s owner pressed the garage key fob a few houses before arriving at the house as he usually did so that the garage door would be open for him to drive straight in

As he drove closer to the house, he realised that the garage door was going down which indicated that it had already been open. Pressing the button again to open it, he drove up the drive which is on a slope and into the carport.

By now Jessie’s owner was somewhat worried as Jessie is left outside when the owners are out; with the garage door down and the gate on the other side locked with a padlock.

With it being dark, Jessie’s owner left the car headlights on so that he could see to drive his way in. Jessie usually comes to greet her owner but on this occasion she didn’t which was out of character in itself.

Now this is where I want you to imagine how you would feel if this was your dog – not necessarily a cute puppy, but your dog – whatever breed and however young or old that may be. Imagine coming home to this and think about how you would feel.

Jessie’s owner quickly got out of the car and went to the back door of the house where he could clearly see that the door had been forced and left open. his first thought was to check the laundry room outside where Jessie often likes to lie on the tiled floor because it is cool and she can still see everything from where she is.

That was when he noticed that Jessie wasn’t there and shouted her name in the vague hope that Jessie may have run into the bushes to hide, but Jessie never came and wasn’t in the bushes or anywhere else for that matter.

The owner ran through the house yelling for Jessie hoping that she was inside, running in to the bedroom where Jessie sleeps and then into every other room but not yet noticing if anything had been stolen because his priority was Jessie and it was now evident that she wasn’t there.

Could Jessie have wondered off somewhere? This is highly unlikely if not impossible because Jessie is simply not that kind of dog and is of a senior age where she is content to be in her own little home and the Queen of her castle with no need to stray even with the doors forced open.

Once Jessie’s owner had checked the house; he realised that all of his clothes from the spare bedroom wardrobe (about 40 hangers worth) had been stolen just leaving one dirty T shirt left (and the clothes that he stood up in).

A laptop which was hidden under an A4 notepad in the lounge and not in full view was also stolen but his wallet with $168 inside and all the credit cards which were in full view and easy to spot; was not touched. Whoever had burgled the house left no mess, no drawers open or any of the usual mess that is often associated with burglaries. All they took were the clothes, the laptop and Jessie.

So what is so special about a ten year old dog?

Photographs provided by Jessie’s owner

When a younger dog is stolen it often generates a lot more publicity, especially when it is a puppy or a female that has just had puppies – and rightly so because Mum needs her pups and vice versa.

Jessie is a senior dog, she is ten years old, probably a bit stiff on her legs, more grey on her face than black. To sum it up she really is of no value to anyone other than her owner.

The media have not really picked up on this story and why would they be interested in a grizzled senior kelpie/collie mix in her twilight years? After all, this one won’t pull on the public heartstrings now will it?

Well this is where we are mistaken. The fabulous animal loving public of Perth would definitely want to hear about this – if only the media picked up on it and gave this story as much publicity as the younger dogs that are stolen get.

Things to consider about this case

What is so special about Jessie? To her owner she is priceless, no amount of money can buy her and whilst he has put up a $1,000 reward with ‘no questions asked’, the question begging to be asked is whether or not money was and is the motivation in this case.

Something else to consider is that the house where Jessie lives sits at the top of a steep drive, it is also on a road which is on a bus route. The house has an intruder alarm where as no other houses around it do and the strobe light is clearly visible on the front of the house. Jessie’s owner did not put the intruder alarm on that day, however you can clearly see an alarm sensor in the corner of the kitchen though the back door which they forced.

Jessie also has loud bark, which like most dogs she uses when she hears anything close to her territory and is a vocal dog. The next door neighbour has 2 dogs which also bark when they hear things – which makes this very strange that they picked Jessie’s owners house to burgle that night.

Let’s not forget that money was left behind and the only three things that were stolen were clothes, a laptop and Jessie. Could this be someone targeting the owner, or someone known to the owner?

Why is it important to get Jessie home ASAP?

This old girl is an established pet, she has an acceptance about her that takes many years of love, care and attention from her owner to get her to this stage.

Jessie’s little pleasures in life aside from walks, will be her home comforts and ultimately her ‘Dad’. Being able to sit on the sofa and wait until her owner get home. A dog like Jessie will not want for much but one thing is certain, her routine and family will be important to her.

I can imagine Jessie being locked up in someone’s house or garden, she may be cold/hot, sore from her joints, she won’t have her toys and familiar items around her and being a very senior dog, she could well be disorientated.

If you live in Perth, have you noticed that your neighbour has acquired a new dog, if so does it bark a lot? A dog in a new and scary environment will bark out of fear or confusion.

Old dogs tend to have what I term to be ‘rusty barks’ where their barks sound old, have you heard a new dog on your street with a ‘rusty old dog bark?’

Could you peak over your neighbours fence discreetly and see if they have a senior, black kelpie/collie mix with a grey muzzle and white paws fitting Jessie’s description?

If there is one thing the people of Perth are exceptionally good at and that is coming together in a crisis or when an animal needs help and it is a quality that makes me very proud to live here.

So whilst Jessie is not a young dog, please keep an eye out and be vigilant in looking for her, she deserves to spend her final years with the one that loves her most and understands her best – her owner.

There is a $1,000 reward for Jessie’s safe return or information leading to her return.

Please let us find this elderly dog that did nothing that fateful day aside from lie in her home awaiting for her beloved owner to come home.

If you have Jessie

If by some chance the person that has stolen Jessie is reading this, please give her back. You know taking her was wrong, you know that keeping her is wrong and you know that you are not being fair to either her or her owner.

Jessie’s owner will give you a reward for her safe return and will not pursue this. All he wants is his dog back safe and sound.

If you still have her, take a good look at her after reading this and ask yourself if what you have done is right.

If you have passed her on, then I ask you to let the owner know the details of the person you passed her on to so that he can try and get her dog back.

But do remember one thing, a ten year old dog has zero value to you but the $1,000 reward money – now you could do a lot with that couldn’t you?

Photographs provided by Jessie’s owner

If you have any information that could lead to the whereabouts of Jessie, please call Lee Padgett on this number: